


You are still here

by jasmina22



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmina22/pseuds/jasmina22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaegar's not the only Targaryen with a Stark locked up in a tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are still here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ASOIAF kink meme prompt: _Rhaegar's not the only Targaryen with a Stark locked up in a tower. (Aegon captures Jon and decides to have his way with this boy who he's told is the splitting image of Lyanna Stark)_

“You can't keep me here forever.”

The words hit you as soon as you step in the room. He’s looking out of the window, watching as the sun sets, his words the only indication he knows you’re in the room.

“Yet here you are,” you don’t move from where you stand near the door, waiting for him to turn, to acknowledge your presence. But he doesn’t, not yet. He only hums.

It’ll be some time before he’ll finally turn around, you know it by now, he’ll look at you with those gray, somber eyes of his, almost hidden behind the curls of his dark hair, and he’ll stand there, still as a stone, until you’ll drag him away. It’s how it goes, you know it.

Your eyes sweep over the room, glancing from one corner to the other. You know everything in this room, from the books on the table, to the pillows on the bed. You ordered it here. Every letter on his table has already been read by you, every parcel checked before delivered.

It’s been almost two months, since that fight where he threatened to leave and you just snapped. Supposing your aunt had lived, things might have gone differently. It started differently.

You were almost friends, after the grudging respect you had for each other from the battle grew into the sort of companionship on the road. He intrigued you, he still does. This son of a woman, who had started a war after running away with you father and robbed you of your family. You’ve been told he looks like her.

Dany was so drawn to him, from the start, but you stayed away then. Only after Dany died, with the loss of the person that connected you, did the things turn.

“I was not meant to be here.”

His words pull you out of your thoughts and once you turn to him and see him looking at you, you realize you were so lost, you didn’t even see him turn. And he’s right, you know it, he never wanted to stay, it was all temporary, him being there to help secure the throne, to hold the realm, the three of you.

And yet, one is gone. And when he had said he was leaving that day two months ago, you didn’t want to be left alone. He couldn’t leave you, not after being the reason you were alone. So you ordered him locked up in his rooms.

“But here you are,” you watch as his mouth curls in a bitter smile. He’s always smiling like this now, bitter and disappointed, but you remember the nights when his laughter was heard booming in a room, when his eyes had found yours and you could see amusement and guarded affection in them. You can remember the surprise widening them, when you first dragged him down to kiss him, after that last battle, or the lust darkening them, when you fucked him for the first time.

Now everything is bitter and disappointed like that smile. Sharp, as the looks you throw each other, or the words you don’t say. 

Mostly, everything is fueled by anger now. There’s no more soft touches, gentle caresses, soothing gestures, only rough grips, deep bites, hateful words.

Despite all that, you still cling to each other, and somehow you’re not surprised by that. That’s why you find yourself here, even when you say you won’t come back. Because no matter how many times he says he hates you, he’s still reaching for you, and even if his grip is painful, you still feel it.

Feel, when he grabs a handful of your hair and tugs, hard, when you’re kissing, and the bitter taste of blood as you split his lower lip, when you bite down on it. And you feel the air knocked out, when he falls on top of you, his hands grabbing and pinching anywhere he reaches.

And if there’s a sharp smile on his lips, every time you let a noise escape, you pretend not to notice. You find it interesting how everything changes from stillness to vicious quickness that urges you on and on. How every painful touch resonates through you and makes the blood in your veins flow even quicker, makes everything sharper, makes you want to reach that edge even faster.

You reach for his hips, using his surprise to roll him over, grinding yourself against him hard. He growls at you as he wraps his legs around your hips, his hands landing on your head again, and the pull brings tears to your eyes, but you’re so far gone. He’s arching under you, legs tightening around you, pulling you closer for more friction, mumbling incoherently come on come on come on.

And you force yourself to focus, take in his disheveled hair, almost black eyes, with pupils blown wide, mouth open and breathing fast, body taut underneath you. You say his name, and you see him snarl at you, the sound lost under the blood rushing in your ears, and your sight goes white around the edges and you let yourself go.

You’re still calming down, when he grunts and pushes at your shoulder and you roll of him. Your clothes, the half which you still have on, are clinging to your skin and you feel dirty.

You’re both quiet now, your breathing the only sound in the room. You turn to him, and he’s already looking at you with those clear, gray eyes, so like his mother’s, and suddenly you feel sick.

Because everybody comparing him to his mother and comparing you to your father. And the parallels are astounding. You force yourself to look away, to stand up, to go.

You’re almost out of the room, when he speaks again, “I hate you.”

And you know that, you hate yourself too. But you can’t let him go, you’d rather have him near and hate you, then be away and love you.

You close the door without responding.


End file.
